


Humming Strings

by Bhelryss



Category: Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Gen, Prompt: Music, grado is a lovely place full of people who love and are loved and it makes me gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 23:01:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20299357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bhelryss/pseuds/Bhelryss
Summary: Grado, you great unfinished symphony -if you listen hard enough, you'll hear the notes that make up the song





	Humming Strings

Lyon is young when she comes into the castle. Her zeal and her devotion have earned her a captaincy in the capitol, and Emperor Vigarde calls her in personally occasionally for a very, very short talk. When she gingerly pokes around for an explanation, the captain of the next division laughs and assures her that’s normal. “He just likes to keep an eye on the pulse, you know? It’s normal, he does it to everyone.” A silent, ‘you’re not special, and that’s okay’.

So Selena isn’t surprised the next time she gets called in. Lyon’s presence is new, though, and she can’t help how her focus goes from her emperor to her prince. He’s fiddling with his shirt, not looking at her or at his father, just fiddling as he stands at Vigarde’s shoulder. “Lyon,” Vigarde calls, turning in his chair to look at his son. “Come here, let me introduce you.”

“Ah, my king,” Selena mumbles, though she doesn’t know what it is she’s protesting. She knows who Prince Lyon is, everybody at the castle does. It’s hard not to, really. Despite his timidness, and she is certain he’ll outgrow it, he is obviously his father’s son. He needs no introduction, and she can’t imagine why  _ she _ would need one. Selena is only a captain, Selena is only a mage on a horse.

“Lyon,” Vigarde says, before Selena can fish up an end to her sentence. “This is one of my knights, Selena.” And Lyon looks, and for a brief moment they have eye contact. Selena recognizes that look in his eyes because it’s a look she’s seen on so many faces, even her own. Doubt. She doesn’t know what he doubts, or who he doubts, but she knows he does.

“Hello Dame Selena,” Lyon says softly, quiet enough that she wonders if that was all he said. He knows his manners, Selena thinks fondly. Children, Selena thinks, are cute. “It is my sincere pleasure.” And then he looks back to his father, who nods. Lyon immediately returns to fidgeting with his shirt, and floats back to his place behind his father.

“Yes, now Selena -”

When she leaves, she waves at Lyon. He blinks with wide, wide eyes, and then waves back. Selena carries her smile with her for the rest of the day. Lyon, she thinks, is a cute kid. She says as much to the captain of the next division. “Selena, you’re odd.” Tiff stretches with her arms up high and watches their soldiers run through their practice skirmishes. There’s a lot of magic in the air, and every so often they have to redirect errant spells. “That’s the prince.”

“And he’s a cute one. Don’t you like kids, Tiff?”

She laughs, and rolls her shoulders. “Not really. They’re loud and sticky. My brother has five and that’s way too many little people.” Selena considers that, and then nods. That is indeed too many children in one place. “Not sure how he keeps his house straight,” Tiff laments. “Besides,” and she gestures to where their soldiers are singing each other, “We have plenty of children right here.”

Selena laughs, and nods again. “We are long-suffering parents,” she declares. “Hey, douse that spark.” She yells, voice cutting across the yard. Kin, a dark-haired mage with a talent for  _ thunder _ magic and low skill with  _ fire _ , stomps on the spreading remnant of her spell. She grimaces, and then yelps when her sparring partner clips her with electricity.

“You’re doing well again,” Selena complains.

“I’ve won the mage tourney three years in a row,” Tiff boasts.

“I know,” Selena groans. “I’ve been mad about it three years in a row.” They share a smile, and then they pull their soldiers apart. Picking up the pieces is as simple as smothering a few fires, tending to a few burns and helping stretch out the electrical jitters. Tiff’s brigade took the win, so Selena is faced with some frowns and a lot of grumbling. All ills that are sorted out easily, if with poor grace.

“Losing is hard,” Lyon offers, when she pauses in her retelling, stuck in a room with her while his father is busy behind closed doors with a few temperamental officials. He doesn’t look at her, and his shoulders bunch up defensively. “Especially when you  _ really _ want to win.”

“Nobody want to lose, Prince Lyon,” Selena says as she stretches. If he’s not going to look at her then she doesn’t see why she has to stand stiffly in place until her king comes back. Lyon, she’s sure, will forgive her. “Certainly not me. I try to find the victories in the loss. Like, Kin.”

“The  _ thunder _ mage?”

“Well, she certainly wants to be.” she says, a smile sneaking in. He’s still not looking at her, but his head is turned in her direction. “She lost her match, and badly. She took it hard, of course,” and Lyon nods, “but I knew it didn’t have to end there.” Selena makes a face while she tries to work out how to say the calculations that had gone on in her head.

“She’s got captain potential. She’s worked through the things she’s bad at to get to the things she’s good at. She’s…” And Selena shrugs. “She goes down fighting.” And the value in that is great, and terrible. Kin will no doubt be handed a position in the little towns, when she makes rank. Her instincts are good for a lot, but seem especially well tuned for the gritty work of hunting down bandits and the lighter work of shoring up the weakening infrastructure of rural towns.

Lyon wrinkles his nose, and nods like he understands. Maybe he does. All Selena knows is that he frowns at his book and nods again. “What is it you’re reading, Prince Lyon?” She’s never seen such a pretty binding, and the edges of the pages shimmer. If it’s a magic book it’s not one she’s familiar with.

“A history of the dark stone,” Lyon says quietly, slowly shuffling the book close to his chest. “From before the great war.” 

“Before?”

“It’s a story,” Lyon admits in a rush, “not a history. It’s just called a history. It’s a narrative device.” Then he squints at her. “Do you know what a literary device is? Ephraim doesn’t know, and he likes to,” Lyon makes a big circle with his arm held out to the side, and punches out with his other. There’s a tiny, sharp smile on his face. “He’s not good at this sort of thing.”

“I know what a literary device is,” Selena promises. “Is it a good read? Is it something I should look out for in the libraries?” Lyon laughs and hands his book over. It’s fancy, and Selena gets the feeling that he’s almost laughing at her. “I see, a book from your father’s library.”

Not something available to Grado’s captains.

“I can lend it to you maybe,” Lyon says, squinting at her. “When i’m done.” He takes the book back and lays his hands on the cover possessively. His scrutiny is an echo of the way Vigarde sometimes looks at her, assessing and a little calculating. 

“I’d like that,” she says, meeting that gaze and not qualing under it. “Tell me about it? I’d love to hear your thoughts, Prince Lyon.”

Tiff brings Jun to their next lunch date. “She’s in charge of an absolutely terrible set of dragons.” She pushes Jun into a seat, and then sets herself down in Selena’s lap. “Selena you really need to do something about your bony knees.”

“Stop sitting on my knees then, Tiff, that’s all on you.”

“Anyway,” Tiff says, ignoring Selena, “Jun works with the babies.”

“The recruits, Tiff, I work with the recruits. They’re not babies.” Jun steals Tiff’s sandwich, and chokes a little when she bites off too much. “The dragons maybe, but not the kids.” 

“You called them kids! I win, I was right. They’re babies.”

“You’re a kid,” Jun responds tiredly, rubbing a little at her forehead. “Everyone is a kid when you get to my age, little miss.” Tiff scowls, and Selena laughs a little. “Command,” Jun says, like its a secret, “is a thing for hot-headed fools and suckers. I’m retiring down the ranks, like a sane person.”

“We’re in command?” Selena tries to argue, though Jun shuts her right down.

“Fools and suckers, Captain. Fools and suckers.” Jun steals Selena’s drink, and Selena allows it. “I’ve done my time as a commander, and I’m done. I was a fool once, but age brought me to my senses. Teaching the recruits brings me more joy than leading a squad ever did. Pass the mustard.” 

Lyon has a lyre, next time he is stuck outside a meeting room with her. Another day, another set of angry faces. He plucks discordant notes out slowly, one by one, and scowls at the wall. “Do you mind if I try?” Selena asks, gesturing to the lyre. He knows what he’s doing, playing the sour notes on purpose. “I’ve never played before.”

“It’s harder than it looks,” Lyon promises, with an interested tilt to his head as he passes it to her. “You can try though,” he allows. He giggles at her, when she fails a strum and only puts herself into a discomfort. “Not like that, here. I’ll, uh, I’ll show you.”


End file.
